Love

I should ask, What would love do now?

I drew the Love card, from our favourite deck of happy cards, Wisdom of Avalon, with David, Shane, how many bottles of red wine later? Me, Mark and Luke. Last night. Mark's birthday. We ate Indian. And drank wine. More than two bottles. Less than six. Got stoned.

Well, what would love do now? My blind date, Leo, was a fizzer. Charlie has disappeared off the radar. There is no love on my horizon. Romance, at this stage, looks like a baron wasteland, stretching out before me, burnt orange and black. Smouldering. White-heat haze. Empty.

I said love had fizzelled and died.

David drew in sharp breath. "No," he exhaled the words in thick breath. "No." Big eyes. "No love, no life. Stop breathing. Whither and die."

"I didn't say there had been genocide," I protested. "I'm not saying it's permanent."

"He's just on the horizon," said David. He closed his eyes. He dropped his voice to shamastic reverence. I could visualise the head scarf. "I can feel him."

"I wish I could feel him..." which I caught myself saying more wantonly than I had, really, intended.

"Shall we ask Lakshmi..."

I started to laugh. There is only so much I can take. Oh, good on him for having a belief in something. I guess? Believe in what you like, if it takes away the demons in the night.

"No, no, come on..." said David undeterred. "We'll make an offering..."

I laughed more and then started coughing. David was the perfect frozen moment of enthusiastic divinity, while I coughed up a lung, which only made me laugh more. Wheeze. choke. Turn red. "Stop, stop," I begged.